Thursday, March 20, 2008

Godspeed

the car's on fire and there's no driver at the wheeland the sewers are all muddied with a thousand lonely suicidesand a dark wind blowsthe government is corruptand we're on so many drugswith the radio on and the curtains drawn

we're trapped in the belly of this horrible machineand the machine is bleeding to death

the sun has fallen downand the billboards are all leeringand the flags are all dead at the top of their poles

it went like this:

the buildings tumbled in on themselvesmothers clutching babies picked through the rubbleand pulled out their hair

the skyline was beautiful on fireall twisted metal stretching upwardseverything washed in a thin orange haze

i said: "kiss me, you're beautiful -these are truly the last days"

you grabbed my hand and we fell into itlike a daydream or a fever

we woke up one morning and fell a little further down -for sure it's the valley of death

ABOUT

Susannah Breslin

I'm a freelance journalist. I've written for Details, Harper's Bazaar, Newsweek,
Radar, Women's Health, Salon, Slate, The Guardian, The Daily Beast, The LA Weekly, The San Francisco Chronicle, Variety, Inc., Esquire, The Atlantic, and I'm a Forbes contributor. In 2008, TIME named me one of the best bloggers of the year. I've appeared on CNN, NPR, and "Politically Incorrect." [EMAIL]